Wine and Figs
by Jedi Sapphire
Summary: Soon after Eldarion's coming of age, a member of the Minas Tirith City Guard is in need. Aragorn's friends find an unusual way to help.


**Disclaimer:** Not mine.

**Author's Note:** If you know how this story got its title, you know that, once again, I owe a huge debt to the brilliance of Saki.

**Summary: **Soon after Eldarion's coming of age, a member of the Minas Tirith City Guard is in need. Aragorn's friends find an unusual way to help.

* * *

**Wine and Figs**

"I cannot help feeling sorry for Patyr," Eldarion announced into the chatter of his parents' sitting-room, which was fuller than normal. Several of their friends had gathered for Eldarion's coming-of-age ceremony, and had lingered to spend time with the King and Queen of Gondor.

"When you say something in that tone," Elladan observed, looking up from the book he was poring over, "it means you hope that somebody will do something to help your… friend?"

"Friend? No. I barely know him. Patyr is one of the City Guard. His mother is gravely ill."

"Does he want us to help her?" Elrohir demanded, from where he and Legolas were sitting by the window bickering about the result of some archery contest they had had in Imladris four hundred years ago. "We do not know as much as our father, but we can try."

"Oh, no. I suggested that to him, but he says his mother wants no Elvish medicine."

Eldarion blushed as he spoke, but none of the four Elves in the room reacted. Patyr's mother was not the first woman, and she certainly would not be the last, to refuse Elven healing. It was a choice they would respect, even if they did not understand it.

"What _does _he want, then?" Legolas asked.

"He wants to ease her pain and make her comfortable. He needs money." Eldarion shrugged. "Patyr is paid well, but he is the eldest of six children and his father is dead. He ran a tavern – Patyr's father, I mean. His sister Alys runs it now – his mother is too ill, of course – but she is young and inexperienced and… it is not doing as well as it was. I offered to help him, but he said he did not want… pity."

"The King's help would hardly be pity," Legolas objected.

"It would suggest that Patyr and Alys cannot provide for their family," Aragorn explained. "And that would be an insult. If that were not so, I would gladly give Patyr whatever he needed for his mother."

"But there must be something we can do to help them!"

Legolas looked distressed, but Elladan leaned across the table to prod him with a rolled-up parchment and a wicked grin. "Of course there is something we can do. Did you know, Legolas, that there are _rumours _about you in Minas Tirith?"

Elrohir's eyes brightened. "Indeed. I have heard it said that you were forced to leave Eryn Lasgalen by your father – peace, Legolas! I was not the one who said it," he laughed, putting up his hands to fend off the knife that had been whipped from his friend's belt.

"I have proof to the contrary," Aragorn said, joining in the laughter. "I can personally vouch for the disasters your father promised would befall my realm if I allowed one hair of your precious golden head to come to harm – and I think I have said enough." He got to his feet hastily. "By your leave, my friends, I must retire. The hour grows too late for mortals."

"Indeed it does, laddie." Gimli had been sitting quietly in a corner. The Dwarf had grown more thoughtful of late. "And I have learnt to stay away from the youth of the Eldar – and their children!"

The last remark was aimed in Eldarion's direction, and then the Dwarf followed the Man from the room.

"What do you have in mind, Elladan?" Arwen asked, when the door had shut. "Nothing drastic, I trust."

"Certainly not. I only want to help Patyr. He does have a strong constitution, Eldarion? He will not faint from sudden shocks?"

* * *

Alys was setting up the tables. The tavern was empty save a couple of her regular customers who were sitting at the bar. They were rough men who drank too much and began too early. In the old days, her father would have refused to serve such people. But Alys was young and alone, and in desperate need.

She finished her work quickly and stepped behind the bar to arrange tankards within easy reach.

The door opened, slamming back against the wall, and a Dwarf ran in.

Alys stared. She could not help it. She had had Dwarves in her tavern before, although not often, and she had certainly seenDwarves in the city, but she had never seen a fully-armoured Dwarf carrying his battle-axe.

"My lord," she began, but he interrupted her, waving aside her greeting.

"Have you seen the Elf today?"

"The Elf, my lord?"

"Aye, lass. The pointy-ear with golden hair and blue eyes."

Alys knew who he meant, of course – every unwed woman in the city, and several who were wed, would have known who he meant. The heir to the Elven-king of the north, dwelling now with his friends in Ithilien, was a source of _great _interest to Minas Tirith. Not all of it was positive, of course. There were some, especially men, who disliked Elves in general and were particularly opposed to one who caused their young daughters to abandon their drawing and needlework and cluster at windows and balconies to stare when he rode past.

The tone, however, surprised her. He sounded like a schoolchild reciting a lesson, like he was repeating words that had been taught to him. It made her a little nervous.

"Prince Legolas?" she asked.

"Aye." The Dwarf shook his grizzled head. "Has he been here?"

"No, my lord. I have never had an Elf here."

The Dwarf snorted. "Elves are unreasonably prejudiced against good ale." His voice, which had gained a hint of animation, grew wooden again with his next sentence. "All the same, he might come here looking for me. If he does, warn him to stay away from the blue cloak."

"The… the blue cloak?"

"Aye, lass." He looked around the bar, and then leaned in close to Alys to whisper, "The blue cloak. His life depends on it. You _must _remember."

With another glance around, he was gone, leaving dead silence in the tavern.

* * *

Word spread, as word does, and an hour later two more men were sitting at the bar nursing ale, four were scattered at tables with bowls of stew in front of them, and a goodwife who lived on the same street had come in to enquire if Alys would lend her a cup of sugar.

Alys could not help but laugh. She did not know how many were hoping for a repeat appearance by the Dwarf and how many that Legolas would come, as promised, looking for him, but she was happy that people were eating her stew. It was good stew, nearly as good as her mother's, but people had stopped asking for it after her mother had taken ill.

It was well into the night, nearly closing time, and the last few lingerers were getting ready to leave, when the door opened again.

If Alys had been drinking something, she would have choked. As it was, she could only gape.

Legolas – _Legolas_ – stood there, framed in the light of the lamps outside. His hair shone like burnished gold. He, too, was dressed as though for battle. Alys could see the strap of his quiver over his chest. His bow he held lightly in one hand.

"My lady." He bowed formally, letting the light catch on his warrior braids. "Has Gimli been here?"

"Gimli?" Alys squeaked. His eyes were _blue_.

"My friend. A Dwarf."

Oh, of course. _Gimli. _"This morning, my lord."

"Praise be to Elbereth," the Elf breathed, coming fully into the room. "I feared I was too late. We are so short of time." He looked around the room and shook his head. "Thank you, my lady. I will not linger here to endanger your house. Farewell."

Legolas was nearly at the door before Alys remembered the Dwarf's message.

"Wait!" she cried.

He paused, hand on the handle. She hurried out from behind the bar and ran to him, lowering her voice to a whisper as she said, "He – your friend – he said you should be careful of the blue cloak."

Legolas stiffened, and for a moment she was certain his hand twitched towards the knife tucked into his belt. Then he shook himself, inclined his head to her, said, "By your leave, my lady," and slipped out into the night.

* * *

Whenever anyone asked her about it later, Alys always denied that she opened her tavern an hour earlier the next day. What she would say, entirely truthfully, was that when she did open the doors, there were at least fifteen people standing outside waiting to be let in.

There had not been so much demand for the stew since her father had been alive.

* * *

The tavern was as crowded as it had ever been, every chair and bench and stool occupied, even the windowsills taken by those willing to clamber onto them. Alys had had to summon her sister Marin to tend the bar while she served the guests. She heard snatches of conversation as she hurried from one table to the next, people far more interested than they should be in their King's friend and his mysterious enemy, but –

The door opened.

Alys looked up, mouth open to apologize and say they had not a single free seat.

It was an Elf. One of the twin lords of Imladris.

He wore a blue cloak.

His grey eyes were hard, glinting like stones as he strode into the room. Silence fell, thick and fast, as people saw him, gaped at his cloak and gawked at the sheathed sword hanging from his belt.

"Has an Elf been here?" he demanded, looking straight at Alys. "Golden hair, blue eyes?"

Alys was torn. She did not want to lie, certainly she did not want to lie to the Queen's brother. But he was terrifying in his cold fury. What did she know of Elves and their politics? She remembered Legolas and his warm smile, and she knew she could not possibly betray him.

"I have seen no such Elf, my lord," she said clearly.

She saw his eyes widen in surprise, even as she heard the whispers start in the tavern. She lifted her chin in defiance.

"If he comes here, tell him Elrohir and I _will_ find him. He cannot run from us forever."

The Elf pulled his cloak about him and was gone.

Alys, ignoring the myriad of voices shouting questions at her, hurried into the stockroom to calm herself.

She was still there, pacing up and down the room, when Marin came in to say Ma wanted her upstairs.

Alys straightened her skirts and went.

Her mother sat in her armchair by the window. The chair was old, the velvet worn threadbare and the stuffing coming out in places. Her mother's gown was old as well, though if the daily takings kept up, Alys might be able to buy her a new one soon, in something that would be softer and more comfortable than the coarse linen she wore.

"Ma, I'm here."

"Come sit down." Alys sat on the little footstool by the armchair. "Marin had an interesting story for me."

Alys scowled. "Marin talks too much."

Her mother shrugged. "She was excited. You know it is unwise to get involved in the affairs of… _others_."

"I know you do not like Elves, Ma."

"I lost too much to their magic. My father died in the terrible war, and his three brothers, and one of my own brothers – and all for a trinket of Elven sorcery. I cannot approve of you having dealings with any Elf – saving, of course, our beloved Queen. They are a proud folk who care nothing for others. Do not get involved with them, Alys. No good can come of it."

Alys nodded acknowledgement, but she could not make promises.

* * *

For the first time, Alys had to threaten to summon Patyr to remove people by force if they didn't leave at closing time.

She had no idea why Elves and Dwarves had chosen to make her tavern the headquarters of their plotting. Everyone she knew assumed it meant she was involved. Rumours had flown around the city by now. There were people in her tavern from all over Minas Tirith, even some of the City Guard and one or two noblemen who looked at everyone with narrowed eyes as though seeking out spies.

It was an hour after her normal closing time when the patrons finally, reluctantly, started to trickle out. Only the last few stubborn drinkers were left, swilling the dregs of their beer around their tankards.

Alys was more surprised than anyone when their persistence was rewarded.

Just as she was about to turn them out, there were heavy footsteps outside. Patyr opened the door, and was shouldered aside by the Dwarf – Gimli.

"Lady Alys," he greeted gruffly. She did not bother to ask how he knew his name. "He has been here?"

Alys hesitated, glance flickering to the few men who were suddenly all attention.

"Have no fear to speak." Gimli stumped up to the bar. He still sounded like a child reciting a lesson, and that frightened Alys more than open threats would have done. "Was Legolas here?"

"Yes," Alys faltered. "I gave him your message." She lowered her voice. "And – the other –"

"Hush. Say nothing of him." Gimli lowered his voice. "This is a bad business, Lady Alys. If only the King would act." Alys's eyes widened, and he shook his head quickly. "No, no, I do not incite you to treason. It is not _your_ King I mean. This is not an affair that concerns Men. Or Dwarves."

"You mean…"

"Aye." Gimli nodded. "_Him._ The Elven-king."

"I have heard…" Alys spoke so softly Gimli had to lean in to hear her. "I have heard the Elven-king is hard. And cold. They say he loves his gold more than anything, even more than his son."

Gimli's beard twitched, and for a moment she feared she had gone too far – he was Legolas' friend, and while she had been far politer than the people who had repeated those rumours to her, the Dwarf might not appreciate insults to his friend's father.

At last Gimli said, "What would you say, Lady Alys, to a father who refused to speak to his son, would not acknowledge his letters – would know his son was in grave peril and do nothing to help?"

Alys could tell Gimli was trying to speak quietly, but Dwarves were not made for whispering. The five remaining patrons were listening for all they were worth.

She knew she should not display vulgar curiosity, but she could not help asking, "Surely not? No father could – and – his son – you mean – Legolas? The Elven-king will not speak to Legolas."

"Legolas has no brothers. He is his father's only son." Gimli settled down on a barstool. "As to what he has done, who can say? Elven memories are far longer than yours and mine."

"And – Legolas – how does he feel?"

Gimli's eyes darkened. "Legolas… It is not easy to explain. His friends are not to blame. I absolve them. What would you do, Lady Alys, if forced to choose between one of your dearest friends and the King who has ruled your realm for more than an Age?"

"Lord Elladan?"

"No, no, Elladan and Elrohir – they follow their own will, now that Master Elrond has sailed. They certainly do not owe allegiance to Thranduil. I speak of Legolas' so-called _friends _among his own people. He is here alone. Surely you noticed that. Not a single Elf of Ithilien stayed to keep him company on the ride back."

Gimli shook his head.

Then he hopped off the stool, axe clanking against his mail. "I must take your leave, Lady Alys. Remember – not a word to a soul."

* * *

Alys was counting up the day's takings – far more than she normally made in a month; she would be able to get her mother a new gown, and perhaps even some of the good southern spiced wine that was said to be strengthening.

Alys was alone in the darkened room.

Normally, the sound of a knock at the door in the middle of the night would have frightened her, but today she had courage.

She put the small box of coins away carefully under the bar, got to her feet, and looked out the window. There was a slender cloaked figure outside.

She was certain she knew who it was.

She drew back the bolt and opened the door. The glint of moonlight on a stray strand of golden hair told her she had been right.

"Prince Legolas!"

He laughed, an almost boyish sound, as he entered the room and drew back his hood. "I am only Legolas in Minas Tirith, my lady. I have been told that I owe you my gratitude for concealing my visit from Lord Elladan. Very few would go so far to help a stranger."

"I did as much as anybody would have done. I – I am glad you are well."

He laughed again, though it sounded a little strained this time. "I assure you I am quite well, and I am honoured by your actions. But you look troubled, my lady. Does something worry you?"

Alys met his concerned gaze.

The words came spilling out. Before she quite knew what she was doing, she had told him everything – about her mother's illness, the lack of money, how her mother had refused treatment because she did not want Elvish medicine, how she herself was struggling to make a profit from the tavern.

"And Ma… I just want her to be comfortable," she finished, when at last she had told him everything. "And I do not know what to do."

The Elf looked at her seriously. "Much as I would like to help you, my lady, I am no healer. And from what you have told me, your lady mother would not welcome my aid even if I were. But if you ever _do _need my help, it is yours."

Alys found herself speaking.

"Will you come to my mother?"

Legolas looked startled by the request, though not particularly displeased. "Gladly, if she wishes it, but I thought…"

"Oh, she does not know I am asking. She would not be happy with me. But… it is important. You see, my lord, she _is_ dying. And – I know you cannot heal her, and she would not want you to even if you could – but in these days, perhaps because of her pain, her mind returns to the griefs of her youth. She is often angry, sometimes bitter. It is hard that her last days should be shadowed by the sorrows of the past. I hoped… Perhaps if you spoke to her…"

In truth, Alys did not know what she hoped, except that she hoped the young Elf might overcome even her mother's deep-seated animosity.

"I will speak to her," Legolas said, not unwillingly.

"Thank you, my lord. Will you come to her now?" She waited only for his nod before leading the way to the stairs. "My lord… If she is unkind to you…"

"I will not hold it against her," Legolas promised.

She told Legolas to wait outside while she went in to her mother.

To say that her mother was cross would be an understatement, but she did eventually consent to see the Elf. Alys had a feeling it was more to rebuke him for involving her daughter in danger than to speak to him, but she would take what she could get, and she had Legolas' promise not to take offence.

Alys ushered Legolas into the room. He inclined his head formally to her mother, who was at least civil enough to invite him to sit.

He did, but when Alys was about to take her seat as well, her mother said firmly, "No. You can leave."

"But, Ma –"

"Go, Alys. What I have to say to the Elf, I can say better without your presence."

Alys left.

It took all her will power not to listen at the door. She went down to the tavern and busied herself sweeping up in preparation for the next morning.

It was half an hour before Legolas came downstairs. He would say nothing of what had passed, but when Alys went to help her mother to bed, she said softly, "You've been good to me, child. I know you're worried."

"I only want you to be comfortable, Ma."

"I know. I think… In truth, I think I have been sitting here brooding too long. I will come sit downstairs tomorrow. It will be lively."

* * *

Alys was not even surprised when what appeared like half of Minas Tirith was waiting on the doorstep when she went down to open the door the next morning.

What did surprise her was that Elladan was among them, standing a scant foot from the door. There was a little circle of empty space around him; the other patrons were giving him a wide berth, even as they eyed him with poorly-concealed curiosity.

She opened the door, letting people stream past her on either side, as she faced the Elf.

"May I help you, Lord Elladan?"

"I am Elrohir!" the Elf snapped. "I know he was here last night! Where is he now?"

"I do not know what you mean, Lord Elrohir," Alys lied calmly. "There was nobody here last night."

Elrohir, about to step into the room, turned to stare at her. "So his big blue eyes have won your loyalty as well? You want to be careful, my lady, not to meddle in affairs that might put you in grave danger."

Even more now, Alys was certain that she would not betray the Elf who had laughed with her so merrily and had actually managed to cheer her mother.

"I saw nobody last night, my lord, blue-eyed or otherwise."

"It appears _you _have chosen your side. Be careful, my lady. And tell _him_ that I will find him."

Alys watched him go, surprised to realize that she felt no fear – only a strange sense of courage.

* * *

She barely noticed the whispering as she hurried around serving drinks, leaving Marin to spoon stew into bowls. Elrohir's warning worried Alys enough that, when Legolas returned later that night, she caught him by the wrist and pulled him into a corner to repeat, as best she could, what the other Elf had said. He looked startled, but before he could respond, the door was flung open again.

Elladan and Elrohir both stood in the doorway, looking like figures of divine vengeance.

Alys gasped.

Legolas only straightened and turned to face them.

"Thranduilion," one of the twins said coolly. "Did you think you could hide forever?"

"You must have known we would find you."

They advanced on him together. Legolas pushed Alys away, to where her mother sat in an armchair by the fire, and waited calmly until they were before him.

"It took you long enough. You have grown careless, Elrondion."

His voice sounded unnaturally loud in the complete silence that had fallen as everyone stared at the three Elves.

"I have grown careful, and merciful, and you should be grateful."

The one who had just spoken moved for his sword, but Legolas was faster, and there was a clash of steel on steel as blades met between them.

"Really, Legolas?" the other Elf hissed, drawing his own sword. "I admit you are an accomplished warrior, but are you willing to do this, here? Will you risk all the innocent people who might be injured if you attempt to fight us?"

Alys's breath caught as Legolas gently laid his knife on the bar counter. "Shall we talk like civilized Elves, then, Elrondion?"

The second twin's sword was at Legolas' throat, forcing him to step back until he was hemmed in by the bar behind him and the sons of Elrond before. The Elf used his blade to force Legolas' head up, smiling coldly as he said, "Now, I believe we can talk."

"Elrohir! _Drop the sword._"

Alys was not too proud to admit she jumped out of her skin at the sound of the new voice – and she was not the only one. Everyone had been too absorbed in the scene before them to notice the arrival of two more Elves, one of whom had a drawn bow with arrow nocked and pointed at the Elf holding the sword to Legolas' jaw.

"Elbereth," Legolas breathed. "This we did not expect."

After that extraordinary pronouncement, three things happened at once. The other Elf in the doorway drew his bow, Elrohir dropped the sword, which fell to the ground with a clatter, and Alys's mother burst into laughter.

* * *

"Your archer almost _shot _me!" Elrohir sounded distinctly aggrieved.

"You had a sword to his throat!" the as-yet-unidentified archer protested. "What was I to think?"

"It was a blunted blade! Do you imagine I would risk harming Legolas?"

"You had a sword to his throat, and it was not a sparring field," said the other unnamed Elf. "You are fortunate Saeldur was there, Elrohir. If I had been alone, I would have shot before I spoke."

"Please," Alys said, "will somebody explain?"

As soon as Elrohir had dropped the sword, Legolas had turned to Alys and said easily, "I believe we must speak in private, my lady."

Alys had ushered everyone to the small sitting room upstairs. Her mother, who suddenly seemed much friendlier with Elves, had been helped up the stairs by Legolas on one side of her, and Gimli, who had appeared from the corner where he had been hiding inconspicuously, on the other.

As soon as they had gained the safety of the sitting room, the Elves had burst into a torrent of questions and exclamations that had been interrupted by Elrohir's complaint.

"It was Eldarion," Elladan said. "He knows Patyr and he told us of your… difficulties. We thought it might encourage people to visit your tavern."

"You know Patyr? And this was all a charade?" Alys did not know whether to be grateful or angry. It was true that she had earned more money. On the other hand… "You lied to me." She focused on Legolas. "You _lied _to me."

Legolas looked apologetic. "Forgive me, my lady. I should have told you the truth yesterday."

"You told Ma, didn't you? That's why she was so eager to sit downstairs." She whirled on her mother. "_You _knew!"

"I learnt a great deal about Elves yesterday. Yes, I knew. It was I who advised Legolas not to tell you, though he has too much honour to place the blame where it lies. It is not in you to deceive, Alys. If you had known, you could not have helped showing it, and everyone would have known."

"But… Surely they must know now. What will we tell them? They will be angry!"

"There is no need to explain anything. If anyone asks, say you are not at liberty to reveal information. Let them draw their own conclusions from that."

Alys _wanted _to stay angry, but her mother was smiling – actually _smiling_ again – and Legolas' looked so very apologetic –

"Give over, my lady," laughed Elrohir. "Nobody lasts against Legolas' repentance very long."

She shook her head, smiling at last. "So…" She gestured towards the two new Elves, Saeldur and the other whose name she did not know. "They are… they have not… turned against you?"

Legolas expression quickly turned into shock at the question, but that was nothing to the outrage in Saeldur's voice as he snapped, "Legolas! Turned against _you_? You are not telling me you told her –"

"I did not! It was no part of any plan to mention you and certainly not – I would never suggest – why would you think _that_, my lady?"

Alys looked helplessly at Gimli, who was doing his best to appear innocent. "He… He told me… That your… forgive me, but, that your father had turned against you and forced your friends to – to choose, and they… he said…"

She trailed off. Legolas looked astonished; Saeldur seemed positively murderous.

"Master Gimli, you have been going about telling people –"

"Saeldur," Legolas said mildly.

"– that I would turn against Legolas?"

"Let's not get carried away, laddie," Gimli began.

"_Laddie?_" Saeldur's expression darkened further. "I swore allegiance to my prince long before you were born, Master Gimli, and you –"

"Leave him be, Saeldur," the other Elf said.

"Leave him _be_?" Saeldur said indignantly. "How can you suggest it, Voronwë? You _heard _him. You heard what he insinuated!"

"Yes, yes, I heard him, and it is unpardonable. But there is absolutely no need for us to trouble ourselves. We only need to tell the King that Gimli has been making it known among Men that they can attempt to harm Legolas without facing the King's anger. I think the King will know how to respond to that."

"Legolas!" Gimli appealed. "You will not let them malign me to your father?"

Legolas only shrugged, mirth in his gaze. "It is your own fault. You should have held to the plan. There was no need for _embellishment_."

"I had do something! Elladan did not convey an impression of menace –"

"And now Voronwë and Saeldur have more than made up for it," Elladan said. "Have you not learnt yet, Master Dwarf, that Thranduil has no sense of humour when it comes to his son's safety?"

"I was not the one with a sword to his throat."

"Indeed," Voronwë said. "We have not discussed _that_, Elrohir."

"It was a blunted blade! He has not a scratch on him! Legolas, reason with him!"

* * *

There were never any more intrigues in Alys's tavern, nor mysteriously threatening blue-cloaked figures nor enigmatic Dwarves. But it did not matter, because those who had come for the drama stayed for the stew, as though all they had needed was a reason to return.

Alys's mother grew to like _some_ Elves, though she would still not consent to Elvish medicine to prolong her life. She did wear the fine woollen dress Alys bought her.

Alys herself had, by attempting to keep Legolas from what she thought was danger, won the friendship of not only Legolas himself, but also Gimli, the sons of Elrond, and Saeldur and Voronwë. Gimli occasionally came by to drink her ale and eat her stew. The Elves refused both, but she found they were willing to sip the Dorwinion her father had always kept in stock.

She was, for the first time in many months, quite content.

* * *

What did you think? Good? Bad? Please review!


End file.
